A Table for Two
by Lidochka
Summary: When John found work as a waiter to fund his way through university he didn't expect to find love.
1. Chapter 1

John hitched his rucksack higher onto his shoulder and checked his watch. It was four o'clock, the restaurant would start dinner service at five. John knocked on the window catching the attention of a dark haired, olive skinned man cleaning the bar. The man walked across the restaurant and pulled open the door.

He looked down at John and tilted his head to the side. "Are you the new waiter?" .

"Yes, I was told to come at four." John fiddled with the toggle on his jacket.

"Well at least you're prompt. You'd better come inside." The man stood aside and held the door open for John.

"I'll l give you your uniform in a moment."

John was nervous he didn't want to work here but he needed the money. Silently, he followed the man past the bar into a small office.

"Take a seat." John sat down across from the man whose Italian accent was beginning to become apparent.

"I'm the manager here. You can call me Mr. Carra. If you do what I ask then you will have a nice little job and if you don't there are many more boys like you, Mr. Watson. Your hours are from half past four until eleven. You can have your break when it gets quiet. Any questions?" John shook his head unsure of whether to feel insulted at the man's directness. The manager rose from his chair and walked to an old cupboard in the corner.

Mr. Carra produced a pile of clothes from the cupboard and handed them to John. "There's a locker room by the kitchen you can change in there. Your locker is number twenty by the way, here's your key."

John took the key from his boss's hand and walked down a hallway past a large kitchen with a few chefs milling around and into a room lined with few lockers and changing rooms. John found his locker, put his bag inside and went to change.

He emerged five minutes later wearing the black trousers, white shirt and black waist coat that Mr. Carra had given him. He locked up his locker and still whilst tying his apron around his waist, walked into the main restaurant.

Five other waiters dressed identically rushed around setting tables. John stood helpless; he didn't know where to start. Thankfully Mr. Carra was standing at the bar again and he beckoned John over.

The manager looked John up and down. "I'm glad the uniform fits."

"What should I umm... do?" John glanced around at the other boys who had barely taken any notice of him, much to his relief.

"Hmm... You see the boy over there with the straight gingery hair?" John nodded as he watched the boy fold napkins at an alarming speed. "He will be your mentor. He's called Robert. Go and introduce yourself."


	2. Chapter 2

John took a deep breath and walked across the empty restaurant towards the other boy. John offered his hand and cleared his throat to gain the boys attention.

"Hi, I'm John." Robert nodded, returning the handshake not bothering to introduce himself.

"Mr. Carra told me that you would show me what to do for tonight." Robert sighed and put down the napkin he was folding. John caught the ginger boy roll his eyes and he stared even more intensely at his shined black shoes.

"You do know how to lay a table, right?" John nodded solemnly; his Mother had made sure of that.

"Then you can copy what I do." With that Robert turned his back on John reached into the tray of cutlery and thrusted a collection of knives and forks at John. He then resumed folding the napkin he'd put down earlier.

John set to work; he laid the table closely mirroring Robert. He laid down the last fork as Robert was already half way across the empty Restaurant on his way to the last un-laid table. John gasped as Robert nearly collided with a tall boy whose curly hair bounced silently as he walked.

"Careful freak!" Hissed Robert as he stormed away. John could see the dark haired boy was struggling to hold back an insult as he turned sharply on his heel to follow the other three waiters into the locker room.

John gave the boy a weak sympathetic smile as he walked in Robert's wake to the final table.

"Did you just call him freak?" John asked one eye brow raised.

"Yes because he is. You'll understand soon enough." Robert threw down the last fork and stormed off towards the locker room leaving John by himself.

"Well this is going well." Whispered John as he put the trays behind the counter and went join the others. He checked his watch and it read 4:50.


	3. Chapter 3

John pushed open the door to the locker room and was surprised that the boys were talking to each other. This didn't seem like a job where John would make friends. John smiled at the other boy's and introduced himself.

"I'm Jack, that's Owen and he's Donato." A short brunet boy introduced himself and the other waiters in the room. Owen's hair was swept back with so much gel it looked like his hair was permanently wet and Donato was unmistakeably Italian. They both nodded at John and continued their conversation with Robert. The boy they called 'freak' from earlier sat in the corner his hands steepled in front of his face not bothering to introduce himself.

John sat and listened to their conversation joining in when he could but he was distracted by the unmoving boy in the corner.

Five o'clock came around quicker than expected and John soon found himself waiting for the early diners to arrive. The restaurant quickly became busy and John rushed around taking orders and delivering meals with Robert. When he had a minute John watched the 'freak' as he walked around sombrely, rarely smiling at guests. Why did the other boy's not even acknowledge him?

The evening went on and John was rushed off of his feet. Being paired with Robert when serving meals meant that John had endure more condescending comments from the chubby ginger boy. He nearly burnt himself on a pizza dish about five times and almost spilt gazpacho over a woman's head which earned him a sharp look from Mr. Carra but apart from that everything was going quite well.

It wasn't until half past ten that John got to take the break that Mr. Carra had mentioned. John walked into the locker room and pulled out his phone from his pocket. He didn't have any messages. Putting his phone back into his pocket John leaned back into his chair, it was getting late. John felt his eyes grow heavy and he soon drifted off to sleep.

"Wake up! We have to clear the tables." Robert stood in the doorway a sly smile on his face. John apologised as he rubbed his eyes and walked into the empty restaurant.

The six boys worked as quickly as they could. John dashed backwards and forwards between the restaurant and the kitchen whilst keeping out of Robert's way.

John was drinking some water in the kitchen when he heard a plate smash. He walked in the main restaurant his tired legs fuelled by his curiosity.


	4. Chapter 4

"Shit." The dark curly haired boy was hunched forward cradling his left wrist. The other boys had stopped work and were crowded around the 'freak'.

Blood ran down the boy's wrist. Robert leaned over him.

"Trust you freak." Robert turned away from him in disgust." Does anyone know where Mr. Carra is?"

John stepped forward. "I-I can help him. I'm training to be a doctor." He was in his third year at university and could easily cope with the deep cut in the boy's wrist.

"Okay then, medical kit's in the kitchen." Robert ushered the other boys away and carried on clearing the restaurant finally giving the boy some privacy.

John rushed into the kitchen and grabbed the large green box from the wall. Grabbing a clean tea towel from a draw he rushed back to the boy.

The 'freak' was sitting in the corner of the restaurant muttering furiously to himself. John sat down next to him quietly and laid the first aid kit on the table.

"Put this around your wrist and apply pressure." John was surprised at how calm he was being he hadn't even been allowed in a hospital yet. "What's your name by the way? It's certainly not freak."

The boy took the tea towel gladly and pressed down on the cut. "Sherlock. " He refused to make eye contact.

"I'm John." John rifled through the medical kit looking for the supplies he needed. "You can take the towel off now."

Sherlock took the towel off of his arm. John poured some disinfectant on to a cloth and cleaned around the blood on the Sherlock's arm.

"It isn't too deep but I think you're going to need to have stitches." Sherlock sighed and looked away from his wrist.

John began to clean the cut tentatively, trying not to notice Sherlock wincing from the sting of the disinfectant.

John rifled through the medical bag looking for a sterilised needle and thread. "I apologise in advance." John murmured as he threaded up the needle.

Sherlock spoke properly for the first time, staring shrewdly at John. "Aren't you supposed to instil some confidence in your patient as a doctor?"

"I've only been studying for three years I haven't even set foot in a hospital properly yet. You should be okay though." John relaxed a little as he swabbed Sherlock's arm with alcohol to numb the wound. He took a deep breath and carefully stitched the cut.

Sherlock kept silent while John worked, he was aware of the deep concentration that enveloped John's face.

"There we are, you're all done." John sighed deeply in relief as he cut thread. John reached into the medical kit for a bandage.

"Thank you. I-I didn't expect anyone to help me." Sherlock looked at the floor. His eyes flicked up to John's face.

"That's okay. It was good to practice on a real person." John looked around the restaurant the other waiters had left and Mr. Carra was cashing up the till.

John wrapped the bandage around Sherlock's wrist. "I'll take the stitches out in a week or two and then you should be fine."

"Thank you again. You really didn't have to do this."

"No as I said it was good, well not you cutting yourself but the experience." John couldn't help but notice the sad look in Sherlock's eyes. He took a glance over at Mr. Carra but he walked into his office to get his coat.

"I guess we should be going." John put everything back into the medical kit and stood up from the dining chair.

"I _guess _you're right." Sherlock bent over and blew out the lone candle that was left flickering on the table he was sitting at with John. It was now dark now and the main road outside was quiet.

They both walked into the locker room to get their things. John pulled on his jacket and put his rucksack back onto his shoulders. "How are you getting home?" asked John for need of something to say.

"Oh, I walk it's not too far." Sherlock tied a blue scarf around his pale neck.

"Oh, I'm getting the bus. I'd better be going; I have classes in the morning. Bye Sherlock." John left the locker room and walked into the restaurant but he heard footsteps behind him and turned around. It was Sherlock.

"John, I just wanted to thank you again." Sherlock made a weak attempt to smile.

John was confused. How many times had Sherlock thanked him now?

"It was nothing. Good night then." John nodded at Mr. Carra who was locking up his office and left the restaurant.

John leaned his head against the window of the bus and shut his eyes. He had never expected his part-time job to be so hectic. His mind kept wondering back to Sherlock, why did they call him freak? He seemed alright, perhaps a bit hostile but apart from that he seemed nice. John could feel himself drifting to off sleep and hoped it wouldn't be this busy tomorrow.

Sherlock walked along the road, the winter wind grazed his cheeks. He kept thinking about John. Why did John not adopt everyone else's attitude towards him? Most people did, it was their first shift at a new job, it was normal to want to fit in but John was different. He sighed. His breath was visible in the cold air in front of him. It would all change as soon as John saw him for what he was.


	5. Chapter 5

Rain beat against the window of John's bedroom, he sighed as he sat at his desk leaning over his text book. He desperately needed to revise but nothing was going in. His mind kept drifting to his job, John still couldn't quite believe what had happened last night. Did he really stitch somebody's arm up? He shut the text book with a thud and leaned back into his chair. He eyes darted to the clock on the wall. He walked over to his wardrobe and pulled out his newly acquired uniform.

John pushed open the door to the restaurant for the second time. It was much less intimidating than the first time. Mr. Carra called out to John as he walked past his office. John was the first one to arrive and so he took his time putting his stuff in his locker. His coat was sodden from the rain that still persisted outside and so he hung it up in the corner of the room. The rain was still pounding against the roof of the restaurant.

After a few minutes all of the other boys arrived together apart from Sherlock and Jack. Jack had taken the evening off. John tried to make conversation with Owen but he could tell that he didn't really want to talk to him. Robert ignored him all together. Apparently helping Sherlock had been the wrong thing to do.

Sherlock ran into the restaurant as John and the other boys were laying up the tables. His dark curls were plastered to his forehead. Sherlock ran past John to go dry off and get changed before he was marked down as late.

They finished laying the tables and took a break in the locker room. John sat down and checked his phone as it was no use trying to start a conversation. Sherlock emerged from one of the changing rooms and put his clothes in his locker.

"Thanks for your help freak." Robert scowled challengingly at Sherlock.

Sherlock didn't react but from across the room John could tell that he was holding back some sort of retort by the way the corners of his mouth twitched. Robert flashed a smug smile at both Owen and Donato. John resisted the urge to glare at him. That would only make matters worse for him.

Five o'clock soon arrived and Mr. Carra walked into the locker room.

"John, I think you've had time to learn what to do. So you will be paired with Sherlock from now on. Owen you can work with Donato and Robert you can work alongside me like we had it before. You should make your way to the restaurant" Mr. Carra shot a smile at John, spun on his heel and left the room.

Robert turned to face John. "I'm sorry John it seems you're going to be stuck with the freak for a while." He sniggered and walked out. Donato and Owen trailed silently behind him.

"We'd better get going." John glanced over at Sherlock who was sitting in the corner. He didn't seem to hear him.

"Sherlock! We have to go. It's five past five." This time Sherlock came back into reality and promptly jumped up from the wooden bench he was sitting on and offered John a weak smile. John returned the smile and walked into the restaurant where he could hear guests already arriving.


	6. Chapter 6

John walked over to a table occupied by two women in his and Sherlock's part of the restaurant.

"Good evening. Are you ready to order?" John took out his note book and forced a smile. It was going to be a long evening.

The women who both appeared to be in their mid fifties nodded. "Yes. I'll have the vegetable ravioli and Sharon was going to have the lasagne and we'll have two Cesar salads."

John repeated their order and wrote it down before walking to the kitchen to place it.

John was greeted with the sight of ten guests seated around one his tables. Sherlock was handing out menus and nodding along to various remarks about the terrible weather at the table next to it. As he left the table John wandered over to join him.

"We're going to need to do this one together aren't we?" John scanned the restaurant for needy diners but didn't spy any. He was sure he had just felt Sherlock wince.

"Yes I suppose so." Sherlock sighed. He hadn't expected for John to find out about what made him _freaky _so soon_._

John heard the bell ring in the kitchen and went to get the dishes for the table with the two women. Sherlock followed. He needed to look busy otherwise Mr. Carra would soon find some more demanding work for him to do. He brushed past John and picked up the plates of ravioli and lasagne. John raised an eyebrow quizzically at him and followed Sherlock into the restaurant with the salads.

Sherlock remained in front of him until he reached the table before placing the plates down wordlessly before catching John's eye and walking off. John stopped for a second. How did he know which plate was for each person? John topped up the women's wine glasses and then went to find Sherlock.

He was sitting in the corner of the kitchen drinking a glass of water.

"How did you know which plate belonged to who? You didn't even give them a moment to tell you." John shook his head and waited for Sherlock to answer.

"I-I heard you taking their order." Sherlock knew that his lie was blatantly obvious but it was better than the truth.

"No, you were on the other side of the restaurant. How could you have heard us? How did you really do it?" John could feel curiosity getting the better of him.

Sherlock sighed it was no use. He was going to have to explain to John.


	7. Chapter 7

A/N: Hey everyone! Well done for making it this far. I'm going to be without an internet connection until the end of August but I can assure you that business will be resumed on 1st September. I hope you have a nice rest of summer.

Sherlock took a deep breath. "Well it was obvious. The women on the left is obviously a vegetarian all you had to do was look at her fingers and hair, she quite obviously has a zinc deficiency. Zinc is commonly found in red meats and poultry and there I was holding one of the few vegetarian dishes we serve, so the chances were that the food was hers. That's how I knew John." Sherlock tensed and waited for John to denounce him a freak as everyone else had done.

"_That_ was amazing." John stood still and blinked. Sherlock just stared at him quizzically. "No really. That was fantastic."

A bemused smile crept across Sherlock's face. "That isn't what people normally say."

John raised an eyebrow, "So what do they normally say?"

"Piss off." Sherlock laughed at the look on John's face.

"Why?" John didn't understand. How could people not find that astounding?

"Because sometimes they don't like what I... deduce." Sherlock looked up to find Mr. Carra walking into the kitchen but it was too late.

"Boy's get to work. You have customers. Go." Mr. Carra waved his hand and stood waiting for them to move. Robert was standing behind him smirking at them.

John jumped up and rushed back into the restaurant. Sherlock took his time but was fast enough to not prompt another comment from Mr. Carra.

They took the orders of the large table and cleared a few others but it wasn't until half an hour later that John had the chance to speak to Sherlock again.

John placed the dirty plates onto the stainless steel work top, "So, what can you deduce about me?"

Sherlock frowned he knew this was coming. Why do people always immediately want to know about themselves? Sherlock had thought John was different but apparently not. "Well I can tell that you are studying to be doctor. Don't say anything. I knew that before last night's debacle. You aren't paying your own university funds you are being sponsored by the army. You have an older brother who you don't like very much. The reason you want to be in the army is because of the order and certainty of everything, in fact you crave any form of organisation. Your home life isn't the best and you enjoy your time away at uni more than your infrequent visits home. Is that enough?" Sherlock fought the desire to look smug but he knew he'd failed. "You can shut your mouth now."

John hadn't realised but his jaw had dropped open. He quickly shut his mouth and wondered what shade of red his cheeks were turning to. "How did you know that? People shouldn't be able to do that."

Sherlock winced at John's choice of words. "I don't know I notice. I can just see these things it comes naturally. I can't quite comprehend how you can't notice these things. It's all rather obvious."

John shook his head. Sherlock was unreal. He'd never met anyone that could do that before. "Well tell me how you did it. You can't just tell me all of that and not explain yourself."

Sherlock smiled shyly. No-one had ever admired him for what he could do. They normally had punched him and walked off by now. "Well, firstly I can tell you are training to be a doctor because of the way you listen so intently to people even when what they are saying is incorrect rubbish. Take Robert for example. Not many people can attain that level of interest and it's a quality normally found in medical professionals because of the nature of their work." Sherlock was pacing up and down the locker room with a barely noticeable smile of his face. "I could tell your home life is problematic by the immaculate appearance of your locker and the attention to detail you use when laying up table. Most people like to rebel against their parents ways when they leave home which normally results in slobbery but you are on the other end of the spectrum, which implies that your home life was completely disorganised with no routine. With that in mind your parents probably wouldn't be supportive enough to fund you through university and so what specialises in order and discipline? "Sherlock paused for affect." The army! I know your brother is an alcoholic and that he does try to help you because you are using his old phone. I'm sorry I noticed that I noticed this but I couldn't help it, your password is a birthday and it's obviously not yours and so I assumed it once belonged to an older sibling. I know your brother is an alcoholic because there are scratch marks around the socket for the phones charger, a telltale sign of alcoholism. That's how I did it." Sherlock stopped winced and shut his eyes. Why did he always do this? He always went too far trying to show just how 'clever' he is and now he had lost a friend because of it.

During Sherlock's explanation John fell deeper and deeper into disbelief. Sherlock wasn't human, he couldn't be. When Sherlock finally stopped John laughed in disbelief. "That. Was. Extraordinary."

Sherlock's eyes snapped open. "I was convinced that I just offended you although you seem to be amused. That's honestly not what I expected. Tell me, was everything correct?"

John smiled smugly and laughed. "I have a sister not a brother but apart from that everything is correct."

Sherlock growled. "Sister. There's always something." He then caught John's eye and chuckled deeply.

John shook his head. "Sherlock, you really are something else."

They were both interrupted mid when Mr. Carra called them back into the restaurant, this time with a threat.


	8. Chapter 8

The rest of the evening passed without any more problems although the other boys had clearly noticed that John had been the subject of Sherlock's deductions. They seemed even more hostile towards John because for some reason, he hadn't declared him as a freak and joined them. This earned him even more scowls whenever he passed the other waiters with a bowl of soup or ice cream.

When service finally finished and the restaurant was clean John got another chance to speak to Sherlock as they collected their coats and bags.

John tried to avoid attracting any attention as he crossed the room to speak to Sherlock but it was no use, the room grew silent and John found himself standing woodenly beside Sherlock.

"How's your arm today? I meant to ask but you know... we've been so busy." John heard a mixture of sniggers and sighs behind him but decided to ignore them; he was far too tiered for any sort confrontation.

Sherlock looked up startled. He was still not used to or quite comfortable with the fact that John seemed to care about him. "It's fine, it's healing. Thank you." Sherlock went back to folding his apron and putting it into his locker. He smiled weakly at John before pulling on his coat and picking up a satchel.

John returned the smile before walking out of the locker room. To his surprise Sherlock followed which lead to several snide comments from inside the locker room.

John stopped and pulled his bag higher onto his shoulder. "How are you going to get home Sherlock? It's still pouring down outside you can't walk in this."

Sherlock shrugged. "I have an umbrella."

John laughed, "Can't you take the bus? I take it your flat is near the university."

Sherlock reached into the pocket of his trousers for some change. "I suppose I could take the bus, although I do enjoy walking home. It gives me time to think."

John raised an eyebrow in confusion and started walking towards the door of the restaurant. He raised a hand to Mr. Carra who cashing up the till. "Just take the bus. I don't think you can get much thinking done outside in this weather."

"Actually, the metronomic rhythm of the falling rain greatly aids the thinking process." Sherlock followed John out of the restaurant whilst completely ignoring Mr. Carra.

John shook his head as he sat down at the bus stop and pulled his bag onto his lap. He brushed away the few drops of rain that were sitting on top of his head. "What do you think about then?"

Sherlock smirked, if only John knew what went on inside his head. "Only the relevant things."

John dug around in his pockets for some money as the bus approached. "What would you define as 'relevant'? "

"The things that matter, John. You spend so much time wrapped up in the unnecessary that you don't appreciate, I apologise for being cliché, the whole picture."

John tried not to show his annoyance but he was aware that he was failing. "Me? I don't see_ the whole picture_." He was aware of the sarcasm dripping from his words but didn't care.

Sherlock scoffed. "No not just you, everyone. No one sees the whole picture."

John handed his money to the driver whilst trying to remain civil with Sherlock. "Well everyone apart from you of course."

Sherlock followed John into the bus unaware of the eyes that were drawn to the both of them. "Yes, exactly. I am not everyone. I'm not even _one_ at all. I always have been and undoubtedly I always will."

John sighed. Sherlock obviously wasn't trying to annoy him, he was just being honest, painfully so. "What makes you so different from everyone else?"

Sherlock gave a bitter chuckle. "This." Sherlock motioned towards his head "My brain, my _cerebrum_. You've seen what I do. I can see every aspect of someone's life just by looking at them. When I look at myself I see nothing. I have no likeness to anyone even remotely ... normal, I cannot see things like anyone else, and I don't feel things like everyone else. How can I class as part of everyone when I'm quite obviously not. Do you understand now?"

John had to admit that he'd never seen Sherlock do anything nice for another person other than when it was a necessity. He never spoke to anyone for any longer than he had to and for that reason John had never noticed him have a conversation with any other the customers. "Okay, but how do you explain this?" John gestured to them both.

"I don't know. It must be some kind of anomaly but not necessarily a bad one." Sherlock smiled slightly, "For some reason you are different and as of yet I cannot quite comprehend why." Sherlock got to his feet as the bus came to a stop.

"Oh umm okay, I'll see you tomorrow then." John was lost in what Sherlock had just said.

"Yes tomorrow. Have a good evening John." With that Sherlock climbed off of the bus and strode off down a side road.

John sat shrunk back into his seat. What had Sherlock just said? That he was different and the same as everyone else, talk about contradiction. Sherlock was unlike anyone John had met before and yet someone how that made him a thousand times more interesting. John groaned and rested his head in his hands, this was all too much and far too late to be thinking about anything other than sleeping.


	9. Chapter 9

John woke up the next morning relieved that he didn't have any classes. He'd slept for hours, it was already one o'clock so he'd have to be at work in a few hours. He thought about the night before Sherlock had seemed genuinely upset, if you could call it that. Sherlock didn't really ever express his emotions. If John was honest the only expression that normally resided on Sherlock's face was boredom only broken for a few seconds by a flash of annoyance or amusement.

John got out of bed and went to make some breakfast he would have liked to text Sherlock and see if he was okay but he hadn't got his number. He sighed as he switched on the kettle to make some tea. The past few days had been ridiculous.

John poured some cereal into a bowl and called out to his two flat mates.

"Anyone else want tea?"

There was no reply. John shrugged and took his breakfast over to the table.

Sherlock awoke to the incessant beep of his alarm. He reached out with a delicate white arm to stop it and climbed out of bed bleary eyed. He stood for a while and listened to the silence. Sherlock loved the lack of noise it helped him relax. His flatmate had moved out two months ago after a row and Sherlock didn't miss him at all. He walked to bathroom to shower and dress. He had a paper to work on for the extra class he took in criminal psychology it wouldn't take too long but it would be good to get it out of the way.

Sherlock was rolling up the sleeves on a navy blue button down when his fingers brushed over to raised line of his scar. It was healing well now. John had done a good job of the stitches for someone who seemed so unconfident. John. Sherlock thought back to the night before, he hoped he hadn't scared John off. He wasn't sure of what happened but he was aware that he'd done that before and no good had come of it. He wondered whether he should text John he could always ask Mycroft to get his number but he decided against it. After all he didn't need to get Mycroft into this. Whatever _this _was becoming.

Quarter to four came around quicker than expected and John reluctantly went upstairs to get ready. At least Mr. Carra paid well; otherwise he might have left already. Well the pay and Sherlock, he couldn't leave Sherlock in that place with no-one there that would actually talk to him. John reminded himself that Sherlock had survived for a long time without him and that he probably didn't even make a difference.

John walked into the locker room to find Jack who had been out for the past two days and therefore hadn't been briefed by Robert yet.

"Hey John. I haven't seen you since your first day. How are you finding things? Jack was putting his clothes in his locker and so he had his back to John.

"Oh, you know, it's very tiring. " John didn't know what else to say. He couldn't say anything about Robert.

"Yeah, but you've got your days off soon though, haven't you?"

"Yes, I'm here today and tomorrow and then I've got two days. I don't know what I'll do with my evenings. I'd like to go out but I think I'll just end up asleep." John could hear Robert speaking to Mr. Carra in the restaurant and knew this conversation wouldn't last for much longer.

"You're lucky, I've got five days until I can have a break." With that Robert walked in and scowled at John before turning to Jack.

"What are you talking to him for?" Robert spat, motioning to John.

Every part of John told him to go into the changing room and get away from Robert but he knew he should stand his ground.

"Umm, because it's polite to start a conversation with someone when you're the only two in the room." Jack raised an eyebrow at Robert and sat down on a bench. "Why? Is there something wrong?"

Robert smiled, "I forgot. You don't know do you?" Jack shook his head. "John is friends with the freak."

The hope that had building up inside John when Jack gave a small oh and turned away from John evaporated. John sighed and went into the changing room. How could he have been so stupid? Sherlock had said it himself, who would go against everyone else in a place like this?

Sherlock walked into the locker room immune to the cold stairs and rolling eyes. He set his stuff down in his usual place, as far away as possible from everyone else. John's coat was hanging on a peg which made Sherlock feel better, yet he didn't understand why. Sherlock walked across to the changing rooms just a John came out. He could only describe the look John gave him as cryptic.

It was around seven o'clock when Sherlock decided he'd had enough of John's unbroken silence. After serving a table together Sherlock dragged John into a corridor.

" John? What is it? Why haven't you said anything. You never stop saying anything?" Sherlock didn't even consider his choice of words. There was something wrong with John and he had no idea what it was.

John sighed. "It's you. How can you let them ignore you and say things like that behind your back? You must know what they're saying." John laughed bitterly before smiling,"Well you're you, of course you know what they're saying. "

Sherlock looked down but he couldn't smile back; he'd assumed that something bad had happened to John but this was about him. "It doesn't matter John as I said last night in no uncertain terms. You only have to think about the relevant things."

John nodded, of course Sherlock didn't care. "If it doesn't bother you then it shouldn't bother me, I suppose. " John gave Sherlock a weak smile and went to return to the restaurant, Mr. Carra would be wondering where they'd got to by now.

Sherlock reached out and grabbed John's wrist. "Why do you care, John? Do you always intend to be the hero, sticking up for the weak because no good will come of it. If they're being rude to you which I imagine they are and it bothers you this much join them." Sherlock hadn't expected his words to be sound so harsh and was helpless as John pried his fingers from his wrist and stormed into the restaurant. Sherlock leaned back against the wall with his head in his hands. He'd done it again. Why were people so difficult?


	10. Chapter 10

A/N: Hey, I'm really sorry for not updating for so long. My laptop charger caught fire and so I haven't been able to use my laptop until the replacement arrived.

Sherlock walked into the restaurant the next day with a few minutes to spare. He didn't enjoy working here, the customers were rude and Sherlock itched to point out their secrets and flaws. When John was there with him the time seemed to go much faster and the customers even seemed nicer. Sherlock didn't need the money, his parents had more than enough but he wanted to be independent from them which was proving to be a lot easier than being independent from his older brother.

The other boys were just coming out of the locker rooms as Sherlock rushed inside. He wouldn't be reduced to running, not for this job and not in front of those people. John was laughing and chatting with Jack, he gave Sherlock a quick glance when he came past but didn't say anything. Sherlock sighed and shrunk further into himself. It was ridiculous for him to think that John was his friend, Sherlock Holmes didn't have friends.

At five o'clock service started as usual and Sherlock was paired with John. John still didn't say a word unless he needed to and all the warmth had left his voice giving it a cold quality Sherlock had never heard before. When Sherlock and join were both in the kitchen waiting for an order, Sherlock took his chance to apologise.

"John, I'm sorry. I really am. I didn't mean to say those things. You know how I am, they just came out." Sherlock looked around nervously, he hated this. He'd hardly ever apologised in his life, he rarely ever made mistakes the rest of the time he was far too proud.

"Why should I forgive you? I heard what you said and it certainly sounded like you meant it." The cold tone remained in John's voice and he looked almost bored.

Sherlock stood still for moment. Why should John forgive him? Sherlock couldn't think of any reasons why he should.

"Well there we are. You've said it yourself. There's no point in me forgiving you." John turned on his heel and walked away to clear some tables.

"John..." Sherlock leaned back against the wall of the kitchen. What was the point? He should just go back to how he was before John arrived.

For the rest of the evening Sherlock kept out of John's way. He really didn't want to be reminded that he'd thrown away the only friend he had. Everyone was in the locker room collecting their bags and putting away their uniforms. Sherlock reached into his bag to check his phone when he noticed something was missing.

"Damn!" Sherlock looked around him; he hadn't meant to be so loud. He rummaged around in his bag to be sure but his keys definitely weren't in there. He'd locked himself out. The other waiters including John had stopped their conversation and were watching him amused. Sherlock took his wallet from his bag and counted the money. £20, there wasn't nearly enough for a cab to Mycroft's. He'd need another twenty at least. Sherlock sat down on the bench and let his head rest on the tips of his fingers which were steepled in front of him. He needed to think.

After what seemed like hours the other boys started to leave. Sherlock hadn't moved since he noticed his keys gone. John sighed and went over to sit beside him.

"What's wrong Sherlock?" John looked straight ahead, he didn't want to speak to Sherlock but it wasn't in his nature to walk out on someone when they obviously needed something.

Sherlock opened his eyes slowly, "I appear to have locked myself out. " Sherlock paused wondering how to phrase his next question. "Umm, can I possibly borrow twenty pounds? I will pay you back tomorrow."

John looked at Sherlock for the first time that evening. He certainly had some nerve. "Surely you have flatmate? What do you need it for?"

Sherlock fought the urge to roll his eyes. Now was not the time to make John feel stupid. "I have to get a cab to my brother's house but I only have £20 which isn't enough for the fare. No I don't have a flatmate anymore my last one moved out. "

John wasn't surprised that his flatmate had moved out. If Sherlock treated him like he treated everyone else, he wouldn't be much fun to live with. "Does your brother have a spare key?"

Sherlock shook his head, "No, I didn't want him just appearing in my flat so I didn't give him a key. I just need somewhere to sleep."

John sighed to himself."You know you could stay over at my house tonight. There's no point you going all that way to when you could stay at my house."

Sherlock raised his eyebrows, "Really? Are you sure?"

John smiled despite himself, "Yes, you can sleep on the sofa in the living room. I'm sure my housemates won't mind."

Sherlock smiled back, "Thank you. I'm sorry for what I said, John. I really didn't mean to say it."

"It's okay Sherlock. I forgive you, I may have overreacted anyway." John stood up and grabbed his rucksack. "Come on, we've got a bus to catch."

Sherlock picked up his satchel. "I really can't thank you enough."

They walked out into the restaurant and Sherlock was convinced Mr. Carra smiled at them as they walked past the counter. They walked out to the bus stop and waited.

"You really don't have to do this." Sherlock didn't know how to react. He hadn't even thought about John giving him a place to stay for the night. Nobody had been that kind to him before.

"Sherlock please, it's fine. Don't worry." The bus came and they both paid for their tickets.

They walked down the bus and took two seats at the back. "But what about everything I said to you?"

"It's forgotten. Let's not dwell on the past. I'm far too tired for that."

The bus pulled away from the stop and Sherlock smiled to himself. At least some good had come out of today.


	11. Chapter 11

It must have been about a quarter to midnight when John finally stood up to get off the bus. They had spent most of the journey in silence. Much to Sherlock's amusement John had repeatedly fallen asleep and woken up each time with a start, although, for some reason Sherlock found it endearing. Sherlock glanced out the window, he couldn't see much because it was so dark outside but he could tell this wasn't a great neighbourhood. His flat was located somewhere much nicer. Sherlock almost said something but decided it would probably better if he held his tongue. He really didn't need to offend John again.

They stepped out of the bus and John lead Sherlock down a sparsely lit side street.

"It's only a five minute walk we shouldn't be long. You must be tired. I certainly am. "

Sherlock nodded. "I'm alright actually; sometimes I don't sleep for a few days at a time. I suppose my desire for sleep isn't as great as yours. "

John looked around at him, eyebrows raised." You don't sleep for days at a time? I mean, I may only be a trainee doctor but I don't think that's healthy."

Sherlock smiled. "I can assure you I'm fine it really doesn't affect me. Although, I think I might sleep tonight. It has been a rather long day."

John nodded before stopping and facing an old town house. In John's opinion it was one of the nicest on the street. He walked up the path to the front door. Sherlock followed still afraid to speak, he couldn't afford to annoy John now. John took a key from his bag and put it into the lock. "I think my house mates will be asleep. There are three of us sharing the house. We're all studying to medicine, so I apologise in advance for the ridiculous amount of textbooks lying around."

Sherlock laughed, "It can't be any worse than my flat." He followed John into a long hallway which was painted an alarming shade of blue.

"We'll have to see about that." John took off his coat and hung it on a hook beside the door. "I don't intend to be rude but I think I'm going to have a cup of cocoa and just go to bed. "

Sherlock removed his scarf and hung it on a spare hook beside John's coat. "How is that rude? It's your house, I'm just grateful to be here."

John led Sherlock into a sitting room where every free space was piled high with textbooks and medical journals. "See what I mean." He cleared a space for Sherlock to sit down in an armchair and set opposite him in a wooden dining chair. "I'm sorry but this is the best I can do."

Sherlock shook his head. "No this is fine... it's great. Really." He set down his bag beside him and took off his shoes.

"I'm just going to make my cocoa would you like some?"

Sherlock nodded. "Yes thank you." He reached into his satchel for the book he was reading and opened it up. He gasped and looked up; thankfully John had left the room. His house key fell onto his lap. Sherlock hadn't locked himself out after all. That didn't surprise him. It was unlikely that he would do something so idiotic, like lock himself out. Why hadn't checked there earlier? He should really go home now it would only take half an hour on foot but he didn't want to. There was something about not being in an empty house that appealed to him.

John walked back into the room holding two mugs of steaming cocoa. "Is everything okay? You look even more pale than normal."

Sherlock hurriedly shoved his key back into his satchel. "Yes, I'm fine just tired like you said earlier. You know how it is of course." He took a mug from John, not failing to notice when their hands touched.

John stifled a yawn. "Yeah I know how it is. Are you working tomorrow?"

Sherlock shook his head. "I've got two days off, for now."

John's face fell. "Oh, I've got days left and then I'm off. I guess I won't see you for a few days. It's going to be strange being paired with someone else after this week."

Sherlock frowned. "Well it would be good to get my stitches taken out. My arm should have healed completely in about three day's time."

John looked up, "Yes, I suppose I should take them out soon. I'm too tired now but I'll look in the morning." John finished up his cocoa and threw some books off of the sofa. "I'll bring you down some blankets in a minute. The bathroom is at the end of the hall. "John got up and left the room shooting Sherlock a smile on the way out.

Sherlock looked down at the clothes he was wearing. He didn't really want to sleep in them but he had nothing else to wear. He got up from his chair and went to put his mug in the kitchen and use the bathroom.

When he got back John was laying out some blankets on the sofa. "You really don't have to do that, John. I am more than capable."

"No I don't mind, its fine." John finished setting out the blankets and picked up a t-shirt. "I didn't think you'd want to get your shirt crumpled. It's mine so it is probably a bit small but it's the best I could do."

Sherlock took it. "Thank you, John. I really appreciate it." Sherlock began to undo the top buttons of his shirt.

John stood still for a moment before speaking. "Umm... good night, then."

Sherlock looked up a little amused. "Good night."

John smiled awkwardly and left the room. Sherlock listened to him climb the stairs before pulling on the t-shirt which was very tight and laying down on the sofa. It was certainly comfier than he expected it to be.


	12. Chapter 12

A/N: I just wanted to thank everyone that followed this story and wrote nice things in the reviews. I've had a really horrible week but they really cheered me up. It still surprises me whenever I get a new follower. So, thank you for all for being so kind and I hope you have a nice week.

John could laughter coming from the kitchen as he came down the stairs. He felt better for sleeping but now he just wanted a cup of tea and some toast. As he walked into the kitchen he wasn't surprised to see his two housemates Oliver and Martje. They both looked up at him with mischievous smiles.

Martje looked over the lip of her coffee cup with a glint in her eye. "John, is the person asleep in the living room your boyfriend? It would have been polite to let him sleep in your bed with you, not on the other side of the house."

This was met by laughter from Oliver, "You should have at least told one of us, Martje nearly threw a book at him when she went to get her phone charger."

"He made me jump!" Martje giggled and looked expectantly at John.

"No. He's not my boyfriend, he's from the restaurant. He locked himself out of his house and it was too late to get help." John tried to hide the annoyance from his voice. They were just having a joke after all.

Martje looked down disappointedly. "And what is _his _name?"

John walked over to the kettle and switched it on. "Sherlock. Sherlock Holmes."

In the living room Sherlock was sitting on the settee reading, when he heard a conversation coming from the room next door. There were three people talking, John, a man with a slightly deeper voice and a girl with a European accent, which on closer inspection seemed to be Dutch. They must be John's housemates.

'John, is the person asleep in the living room your boyfriend?' The Dutch girl asked. Boyfriend? That meant John was gay. Sherlock raised his eyebrows in surprise and shut his book. He slipped the book back into his satchel making sure the key he had found last night was still there.

Sherlock walked in the direction of voices and arrived at the doorway of a spacious kitchen with a solid wooden table in the centre. John looked up from his toast and smiled at Sherlock.

"Hi, did you erm... sleep well?"

Sherlock brushed a stray curl from in front of his eye. "Umm, yes thank you." Sherlock paused and tried to think of a compliment. "You're sofa is very comfortable" Sherlock wasn't used to people asking him questions like that and judging by the stifled giggle that came from the Dutch women that wasn't the standard reply.

John sent Martje a sharp look and kicked her foot under the table. She looked away for a second to compose herself before turning to Sherlock. "Hello, I'm Martje. It's nice to meet you."

Sherlock said hello and forced a smile. He sat down at the only spare chair on the table which happened to be next to John and turned to Oliver, stretching out his hand.

"Sherlock."

"Oliver. So you locked yourself out?"

Sherlock looked down as John placed a mug of tea in front of him. "Yes, I was rather stupid."

John shook his head. "No you're not, everyone forgets their keys now and then. "

Sherlock tried his best not to sigh, "Yes everyoneelse does but I don't."

John rolled his eyes and turned to Martje. "He does this a lot."

"What do I do?" Sherlock took a sip of his tea and set it down on the table.

John tried not to sound too amused. "You always say that you're different from everyone else."

Sherlock spoke slowly and deliberately. "That's because I am."

Oliver stood up from the table. "You two are like an old married couple. Right, I'd better be going to the hospital. I'll see you later." He walked over to the door, "Bye Sherlock. It was good to meet you."

John finished his toast and put his plate by the sink whilst muttering. "We're not a couple and we're certainly not married."

Martje looked down at the book she was reading to hide her smile and Sherlock pretended he hadn't heard.

Martje tried to make her face neutral and looked up again. "So, Sherlock, what do you study?"

"Chemistry and forensic science with an additional course in advanced criminology. "Sherlock finished his sentence with a small quirk of his lips. "I understand you are studying medicine."

Martje nodded. "Yes, I'm John's class. He's the best student out of all of us."

John felt himself blush. "No I'm not, you and Oliver are easily better than me."

Martje laughed, "No, John is far too modest. The army is going to get an amazing doctor when John has finished studying."

John chose not to say anything but Sherlock felt something twinge in his chest. He narrowed it down to pride and quickly dismissed it. Why was he proud of John? The answer became apparent quicker than Sherlock had expected. John was his friend of course he felt proud of him, he felt proud of him in the same way that Martje did, at least that made some sense.

Sherlock had scared himself with his sudden revelation and so changed the subject with the first thing that came into his head. "So what part of the Netherlands do you come from?"

Martje stood up to clean her coffee cup. "I'm from Leiden. Wait!"She stopped halfway to the sink and turned around. "How did you know I was Dutch? Did John tell you?"

John began to laugh, "No I didn't tell him."

Martje knitted her eyebrows, "So how did you know? Why is John laughing?"

Sherlock smiled, "Your accent is unmistakeably Dutch. It's extremely simple. I also know that you trained as a ballet dancer before you decided to study medicine."

Martje shook her head. "How do you know that? Nobody knows that apart from my family and friends back at home. I don't think I've even told John or Oliver."

"Your knees are hyperextended, a feature commonly found in gymnasts or ballet dancers but you keep flexing your foot vertically under the table something a ballet dancer that has studied en Pointe would do out of habit so, definitely ballet." Sherlock leaned back in his chair with a smile and looked over at John.

He smiled at Martje like a mother apologising on behalf of their child. "I still don't know how you do that Sherlock. It's brilliant but please_ try _not to deduce my friends."

"No I don't mind really. It's just quite scary that you knew all of that by just looking at me. I have to go to the library now. I need a reference book for an essay I'm writing. I'll see you two later." Martje picked up her phone and left the room.

Sherlock turned to John. "I suppose I had better be leaving."


	13. Chapter 13

Sherlock went back into the living room to change his shirt and get dressed. He took off John's t-shirt, folded it and left it with the blankets John had given him the night before. Sherlock really didn't know how he was going to explain to John that he'd actually had his key with him all along. He certainly didn't want to call a locksmith or get Mycroft involved. Lost in thought, Sherlock was just doing up the top few buttons on shirt when John walked in.

John felt the blush rising up his cheeks instantly, "I'm sorry I didn't realise you were changing." John ran a hand through his hair and looked down.

Sherlock smirked as he fastened the last button, he couldn't help but notice the colour of John's cheeks. "It's quite alright."

John nodded and sat down on the arm of a chair. He kept his eyes down as he was still painfully aware of the red tinge of his cheeks. "So are you going now?"

Sherlock looked over at John and raised his eyebrows. "I didn't realise you were so eager for me to leave."

John shook his head vigorously. "No! No, I didn't mean it like that. I meant are you leaving now?" Just when he'd been able to look up John felt his face grow warm again.

Sherlock gave a low chuckle and smiled over at John who looked extremely embarrassed. "Yes, I had better get back to my flat, I have essays to write."

John watched as Sherlock picked up a book from the coffee table and placed it into his bag. "What are going to do about your key?"

Sherlock tried not to look at the inside pocket of his bag where he knew the key was hidden. "I was thinking that maybe I could ask my landlady whether she has a spare key. It would have been too late to disturb her last night though."

John wrung his hands in front of him before clearing his throat. "You know, it's still quite early and I don't have any classes today. Did you want to go out for coffee?"

"Umm..." Sherlock tugged his satchel higher onto his shoulder and glanced down at his watch. "Yes, I suppose I have time."

John stood up from the chair, smiling. "I'll go and put my shoes on then."

Sherlock followed John into the hall way which thankfully didn't look as bright blue in natural light as it did the night before. He didn't know what to think. Had John just asked him out? Sherlock tried to dismiss the though as he tied his scarf around his neck. He was sure he was looking into this far too much as per usual.

"We'll have to take the bus into town, there aren't any café's around here." John turned around when Sherlock didn't reply. "Sherlock, are you okay?"

Sherlock blinked quickly. "Yes I'm fine. I was just thinking about something."

"Right then, let's go." John picked up his keys, opened the front door and waited for Sherlock to step outside where thankfully it wasn't raining.

Sherlock followed John off of the bus and down a side street towards the coffee shop John intended to take him to."So, how long have you been living with Martje and Oliver?"

John led Sherlock towards into a small shop with hardly anyone inside. Just a couple sitting in one corner and an old man with a Sudoku book in the other. "Three years. We've lived together since we were first years. Why do you ask?"

Sherlock sat down in a chair by the window and watched as John sat opposite him. "I was just wondering. Martje seemed to know you very well."

John laughed, "Yeah, I'd say she was my best friend. She's going out with Oliver in case you were wondering."

Sherlock nodded and was about to reply when a waitress walked over.

She waited with a bored look on her face whilst tapping her pencil against her note pad impatiently. "What can I get for you?"

John answered first. "I'll have a tea. What do you want, Sherlock?"

"Err, I'll have hot chocolate."

The waitress nodded, "So one tea and one hot chocolate. Is that everything?"

John nodded, "Yes, thank you."

They both watched the women walk away before Sherlock turned to speak to John.

Sherlock drummed his fingers rhythmically on the table. "I think she needs some lessons in customer treatment from Mr. Carra."

John laughed. "Yeah, she'd soon change her ways."

Sherlock glanced at the window deducing the people walked by. "So you're going to be an army doctor?"

"Yeah, I'm looking forward to it. I know it's going to be hard work and it's going to be-."

Sherlock interrupted. "Dangerous?"

"I was thinking more a challenge but I suppose you have a point." John looked down at the table and smiled. "I want to do it though. I really don't see the appeal of sitting in a surgery all day."

With that the waitress brought over their drinks and set them down on the table. "That'll be £4.30."

John reached into his pocket for his wallet but Sherlock stopped him. "No John, I'll pay."

"But I'm the one that invited you here."

"You did, but I did spend the night at your house when I could have been staying with my brother. It's the least I can do." The waitress raised her eyebrows at the old man doing his Sudoku that had been listening to their conversation.

Sherlock frowned as he handed a five pound note over to her. "You should really learn to control your imagination."

The waitress grumbled and threw the change at Sherlock before stalking back behind the counter.

John couldn't hold his laughter in anymore and a giggle escaped his lips. "How do you that?"

Sherlock paused with a spoonful of whipped cream and chocolate sprinkles half way to his mouth. "Do what?"

John rubbed his forehead. "I don't know how to describe it. You just... Anyone that's annoying you, you can always get the better of them."

Sherlock shrugged, "Just something I've learnt to do over time. It's been quite essential."

John frowned. "Why?"

"Oh, people have always taken a disliking to me. Apparently, I bring it onto myself but it no longer bothers me."

John nodded and sipped his tea. Robert and the others at the restaurant were some of the _people_ Sherlock was talking about. "You have a good attitude towards it. You're a kind person Sherlock, even if you don't like to show it."

Sherlock smiled and felt his stomach tighten. "I'm a nice person?"

John finished his tea and set down his mug. "Yes, much nicer than you think you are."

Sherlock drained the last drips of hot chocolate from his mug. "I disagree with you but I appreciate your attempt to make me feel better about myself."

John blushed again and picked his coat up from the back of his chair, he didn't know how to reply to that. He watched as Sherlock reached into his bag to check his phone. Sherlock's lips spread into a smile. "What?"

Sherlock pulled out a small gold item and held it out his palm. "John, I think I've found my key."


	14. Chapter 14

A/N: Hey, I'm sorry this is a bit late but there was a large hole in the plot that I needed to sort out but I think I've fixed it for now. Thank you again for your comments they always make me smile. I hope you all have a lovely week.

John shook his head as Sherlock put his key away pulled his bag onto his shoulder. "So you've had it all along?"

Sherlock smiled innocently, "Yes I suppose I have, not that I was aware, though."

"Well that makes things easier for you now. You won't have to call a locksmith." John held open the door to the café for Sherlock and they headed back out onto the street. Rain was beginning to fall gently and people were scurrying into shops to shelter from it.

"Yes, I suppose it does." Sherlock stopped in front a small bookshop which John had never been into before. "Do you mind if we go inside? There is a book I want to find which I think they might have."

"No, not at all."John watched Sherlock open the door and followed him inside. Sherlock walked straight to the back of the shop whilst John wandered around and looked at the spines of some of the books on the old wooden shelves. He picked up one of the books and peered at the title 'A Definitive Guide to Russian Alchemy Methods 1700-1864'. The shop was eerily quiet and John found himself half whispering, half hissing as he put the book back and went to find Sherlock. "Sherlock, what kind of bookshop is this exactly?"

"Hmm?" Sherlock looked up from book he was examining and placed it back onto a shelf.

John looked about nervously, there didn't appear to be any staff around. "I _said_ what kind of bookshop is this?"

Sherlock half smiled and turned around to face John. "It's a specialist bookshop. They only sell non-fiction books so you won't have much luck with finding your Ian Fleming novels here." Sherlock turned back around and sat down on the floor to examine the bottom shelves.

"How did you know I read-"John sighed and turned around there really wasn't any point in asking how Sherlock knew what he enjoyed reading because there was bound to be an obvious answer that he'd never thought of. It seemed that Sherlock was going to take a while choosing which books he needed so John headed over to the front of the store to sit in an armchair by the window.

John sank into the chair and looked out at the people in the street who were now scurrying in the rain which had got a lot heavier since they had entered the shop. There still didn't seem to be any staff around and Sherlock was still darting around the shop checking each shelf individually. Finally after about fifteen minutes of staring out the window John heard Sherlock cry out from the corner of the shop.

Sherlock rushed to the front of the shop to find John. "John! I've found it!"

John stood up and walked over to him to see what book he'd been searching for. "Is this book in French? You speak French?"

"Ouais." Sherlock took the book away from John and walked over to the counter. There was a bell on top of it so Sherlock rang it.

An old man shuffled out from a store room behind the counter. He wore a pair of small glasses perched on the end of his nose and looked up with at Sherlock with a kind smile on his face. "Mr. Holmes, I haven't seen you for a very long time. What is it you're buying today?"

Sherlock held out the book so the old man could write down the title and the price. "Alchimie Mystique et Traditions Populaire, an interesting choice, I think you'll enjoy this one. The theories in this book are quite remarkable. That will be £5.80." Sherlock took some more money from his wallet and handed it over the counter. The old man placed the book in a plain paper bag and handed it back to Sherlock before taking his hand. "Until next time, Mr. Holmes."

Sherlock nodded and shook the shop keeper's hand. "Thank you Mr. Hobbs. I hope to see you soon. Goodbye." He turned around and motioned for John to follow him out the store. The rain was pouring down now. Sherlock pulled up the collar of his coat. "You don't happen to have an umbrella do you John?"

John shook his head. He was quickly becoming soaked and wished that he did have an umbrella and a more water-proof jacket. "How did that man know who you are?"

Sherlock smirked as they walked back onto the main road. "I am frequent customer and Mr. Hobbs has worked there for as long as I can remember. "

"Do you need to go anywhere else?" Just as John was speaking a white van driven through a puddle and splashed him. "Jesus Christ! Seriously?"

Sherlock who was relatively dry, or as dry as you could be in a rain storm thanks to John working as a human shield tried not to smile as John stopped abruptly in the middle of the pavement and stared angrily at his clothes which were soaked through. "I don't see how stopping in the middle of the street and staring at them is going to make your clothes dry."

John turned on Sherlock but started walking. "Shut up! You being all snarky isn't helping either."

Sherlock bit his lip to stop himself from laughing as they walked in silence for about five minutes. "Do you want to come back to my flat? It's only a ten minute walk away and you won't have to get on the bus like that. I'm sure I have some dry clothes you can borrow."

John looked up at Sherlock and smiled. "Yeah, I guess that would be a good idea. Thanks, I'm sorry for you know, shouting at you."

"You're welcome and apology accepted." Sherlock lead John away from the main street and into a street of large town houses all of which had been separated into flats. "When we get to my flat I recommend you don't go into the kitchen."

John raised an eyebrow in confusion. "Why's that?"

Sherlock shook his head. "I would tell you but that would defeat the object of protecting you from the horrors that lurk in my fridge."


	15. Chapter 15

A/N: I'm so sorry that I didn't post last week but some things happened and I wasn't able to. I will make up for it this week, though. I hope you all alright and that you have a good few days before I post again.

They continued down the street past a few more houses before stopping in front of one of them. Sherlock took his key from his pocket with a smile and placed it into the lock. John had no idea what to expect of Sherlock's house, judging by the state of his locker at the restaurant it would be a mess but with some sort of strange system of order.

Sherlock held open the door and lead John up the stairs to his flat. John's initial thoughts were confirmed as he came into a living room filled with books, paper and a vast array of, for want of a better word, stuff.

Sherlock looked John up and down, trying to gauge exactly how tall he was compared to himself. "I think I have some old clothes that I grew out of in the back of my wardrobe that might fit you." Sherlock opened the door to his bedroom, the tidiest room in the house judging by the glance of the kitchen John managed to get.

John quickly looked around the room as Sherlock leaned inside his wardrobe. "Thanks for doing this you really didn't have to."

Sherlock pulled out a pile of clothes with a triumphant grin. "No, it's fine, I know you would have done the same. I think these will do for you." Sherlock handed the clothes to John and strode over to the door. "I'll let you change."

"Alright, thanks." Sherlock shut the door and John pulled his sodden jumper over his head. Only now could John see what Sherlock had given him. There was a pair of black jeans and a white button down with black buttons. He smiled; they were unmistakeably Sherlock's clothes. John pulled on the shirt and rolled up the sleeves to try and hide how long they were on him. Shaking his head John held Sherlock's old jeans up in front of him. He wasn't sure that the waist was small enough but the length was certainly too long. With a slightly amused sigh John put them on to discover that he couldn't even see the toes of his socks. John sat down on Sherlock's bed and rolled up each trouser leg so that there wasn't a chance of him falling flat on his face with every step.

John bundled up his clothes and was about to go back through to the living room when something on Sherlock's desk caught his eye. There was something that was a bright shade of blue sitting in a petri dish. Looking closer John could see that there were more of them each varying slightly in colour. He was about to reach out and touch one when Sherlock opened the door.

"Oh, you are dressed. I thought you were taking rather long." Sherlock fought and failed to keep a straight face.

John turned around guiltily until he saw Sherlock grinning at him. "What is it? Why are you smiling like that?"

Sherlock broke into a deep chuckle. "I don't think my clothes really fit you."

John rolled his eyes but felt a smiling pulling at the corner of his lips. "Well done, Sherlock. I know you're good at making deductions but you've really surpassed yourself this time."

This only caused Sherlock to laugh harder until he managed to sober himself up. "I'm sorry, it's just quite amusing."

John didn't bother replying. He let himself smile as he followed Sherlock to the door.

Sherlock turned around to face John. "You were about to touch the experiment on my desk, weren't you?"

John looked away embarrassed. "Yes I was just wondering what it was."

Taking John's clothes Sherlock threw them into the washing machine. "You should be glad I came in. Copper Sulphate is an irritant and if you had swallowed it or got it in your eyes I would have had to take you to the hospital dressed like that."

John blushed and waited in the doorway of the kitchen. He understood why Sherlock told him not to come in. The table in the middle of the room was covered in microscope slides and test tubes with all sorts of residue on them. He watched as Sherlock reached into the cupboard to get something. John grew concerned at what Sherlock was about to produce from it. Much to his relief it was only a tin of soup.

Sherlock brought the tin closer to him to check what flavour it was. "Is tomato alright? I don't really have anything else."

John nodded. "Yeah that's fine. It doesn't sound like we have much choice anyway."

"You're quite right." Sherlock murmured, as he opened a tin and poured the soup into a saucepan.

John stepped over the threshold into the kitchen. "So, what are the horrors that lurk in your fridge? Are they worse than the poison that you have lying around on your desk?"

Sherlock smirked and picked up a wooden spoon. "Copper Sulphate is only fatal if you consume more than about twelve grams of it and yes I would suppose that the fridge is worse than my bedroom."

John was still curious and so he walked over to place his hand onto the fridge door.

Sherlock didn't move but looked over at John. "I wouldn't recommend you do that."

Opening the door John gasped and slammed it shut again. "Was that a human foot? A whole human foot? In _your_ fridge?"

Sherlock shrugged his shoulders. "Yes, it was. I told you not to look. " Sherlock poured the soup into two bowls. "The soups ready."

John walked over to Sherlock and took a bowl. "I don't feel much like eating now."

Sherlock laughed as he sank into an armchair in the living room. "Nonsense, you're training to be a doctor."

John sat in the chair opposite to him. "Yes, but that's completely different to storing body parts next to your coleslaw."

Sherlock nodded and brought his spoon to his lips and blew on the soup. "You do have a point."

Smiling, John ate his lunch. He glanced at the clock above the fire place and sighed "I have to be at the restaurant in an hour. Service isn't going to be the same without having you there to guess what the customers are going to have before they even order."

Sherlock smiled warmly. It felt strange to think that someone actually enjoyed spending time with him. "I'm sure you'll manage somehow."


	16. Chapter 16

Sherlock checked his watch and stood up from his armchair. "I had better go and get your coat from the bathroom."

John sighed and walked over to the table beside Sherlock's chair to pick up his soup bowl and take it through to the kitchen. He looked around nervously. John was still on edge from nearly poisoning himself earlier and of course finding a human foot in the fridge. He set the bowls down by the sink and peered out of the window. By the looks of things it was still raining and John didn't look forward to catching the bus back into town.

"John?"

John walked back into the living room nearly tripping over the socks Sherlock had given him after he complained that his feet were cold.

Sherlock smirked and handed him back his coat. "At least you can change back into your uniform when you get to the restaurant."

John pulled on the coat. "I guess that's one reason to go."

Sherlock perched on the arm of his chair whilst John knelt on the floor to tie his shoes into which Sherlock had stuffed with newspaper to dry them out. John got back up with a small smile.

"Thanks for giving me lunch and these clothes."

Sherlock walked over to the front door of his flat he held the door open for John. "You're welcome. Enjoy yourself at work this evening and I strongly advise you not to physically harm Robert or his friends in anyway."

John smiled at Sherlock with mock innocence. "I'd never do such a thing."

Sherlock raised an eyebrow. "But it is always so tempting."

John nodded and stepped over the threshold into the hall. "Yes, working at the restaurant is like an exercise in self restraint."

Sherlock laughed. "It is indeed. See you later, John."

John cleared his throat maybe he was catching a cold. "Yes, goodbye Sherlock thanks for everything." John heard the door close behind him and walked down the stairs to get back outside onto the street.

John was relieved as he walked into the restaurant and out of the rain which seemed to be relentless. He nodded to Donato who was cleaning the bar and walked into the locker rooms to finally change out of Sherlock's ill-fitting clothes. As he opened the door John felt his stomach sink as Robert sat on a side bench speaking to Owen.

John avoided making eye contact as he walked across to his locker and gathered his uniform. He was taking off his coat when he heard Robert sniggering behind him.

John folded his coat put it neatly in his locker and turned slowly to face Robert.

John kept his voice level and folded his arms in front of him. "Do you have a problem, Robert?"

Owen placed a hand over his mouth to stop himself from laughing aloud.

Robert sat up straighter and smiled slyly at him. "I was just wondering where you bought your clothes from. John."

John didn't know what to say. If he told them that they were in fact Sherlock's clothes then he'd be subjected to all kinds of insults and jeers. He still needed to think of some retort otherwise Robert was bound to make fun of his silence. John settled for the truth, not all of it but it was the truth nevertheless.

John stared straight at Robert keeping his voice calm. "I got caught in the rain and had change into spare clothes."

Robert allowed himself to laugh now. "They're certainly not your clothes."

John feigned a proud smile. "You're right they're not. I didn't realise you were so observant, Robert." John broke eye contact with Robert and walked into the changing room. In that moment he could have sworn he had been possessed by Sherlock. He hadn't realised he was capable of such sarcasm as that.

John changed slowly, checking his watch to make sure he didn't leave until he was expected to go and set the tables. Finally he heard the door to the changing room open and close and the sound of Robert's voice fade away. Cautiously, John stepped back into the locker room putting Sherlock's clothes to the back of his locker.

He walked into the restaurant avoiding Robert's glare and picked up a basket of cutlery. He went over to the tables that he normally worked at with Sherlock and began to lay them.

Much to his relief it had turned out that John was paired with Donato whose grasp of English wasn't the best as he'd only been over from Italy for a month and a half. Donato spent most of his time when he wasn't serving speaking to the Italian chefs in the kitchen. This meant that John could stay out of the way of Robert and not worry about being questioned about Sherlock's clothes.

The first part of dinner service was slow there were very few customers and John was beginning to find it difficult to find a place to hide while the waiters had so much spare time. He narrowly avoided Robert as he came into the kitchen. Thankfully one of John's table's food was ready so he could make his escape.

He put the food on the table and went to find some pepper for a customer's soup when he saw a well dressed man enter the restaurant. A women followed him seemingly disinterested in her surroundings but in engrossed in the phone in her hands. John went quickly to find the pepper mill and hand it the customer before going to meet the man at the door.

John put on the same smile he had managed to perfect in the past week. "Good evening. A table for two is it?"

On closer inspection the man seemed quite young compared to how he was dressed. The man smiled smarmily and looked at the women behind him before turning back to John. "No, just a table for one I'm afraid."

The women nodded whilst texting and left the restaurant. John stared confused for moment but quickly shrugged it off. "Okay a table for one it is. If you want to follow me..."

John led the man to the table where he had stitched Sherlock's arm on the first night he'd worked at the restaurant which reminded him that he still had to take out Sherlock's stitches. "Is this table alright, sir?"

John noticed him smirk to himself and look around in distaste before sitting down. "Yes, it will suffice."

The man's unwavering smile was beginning to unnerve John. "Can I get you the Wine List?"

The well dressed man nodded and sighed. "If you must. " As if suddenly remembering something he shuffled in his chair and looked up. "I meant yes please."

There was definitely something strange about that man. He seemed vaguely familiar. John shook his head and walked away to get the Wine List.


	17. Chapter 17

John walked over to the bar and smiled shyly at Mr. Carra who was mixing a cocktail.

"Mr. Carra?" asked John as he picked up a Wine List.

Mr. Carra looked over at him setting the cocktail glass down with a flourish. "Yes. What is it?"

John tried to look over inconspicuously at the well dressed man who was currently looking around the restaurant with an expression which could only be described as distaste. "You see the man over there at the table for two, has he been here before? He seems familiar but I don't know where from."

Mr. Carra peered over the bar and shook his head. "No, I haven't seen him here before. " With a smile Mr. Carra picked up the drink. "He doesn't look like he belongs here does he? "

John quickly averted his eyes as the well dressed man turned his way. "No you're right. I know him but I don't know him. It's hard to describe."

Mr. Carra chuckled and left John at the bar. With a sigh John walked back over to man's table. He set the list in front of him and with a non-committal smile before walking back to the kitchen to pick up some orders for one his other tables with Donato.

After about ten minutes John returned to the man to take his order. He forced another smile. "Are you ready to order, sir?"

The man nodded and set the menu down in front of him. "Yes, it was a difficult choice."

John nodded and carefully took out his notebook. "So what will you have?"

He frowned and drummed his fingers on the table. "Your wine list was truly disappointing. It was so tragic that it wasn't even comical."

John raised his eyebrows. He may have only worked at the restaurant for a week but he had never heard of a customer being insulted the menu before. Trying to keep his tone even John replied. "So were you able to make a choice or were you too offended by a list of fancy grape juice?"

The man chuckled darkly to himself. Strangely it reminded John of the way Sherlock laughed. "I do apologise. It would appear that my brother has chosen a feisty one this time. "

John stared confused at the man. He had no idea what the man was talking about. "Your brother? I'm sorry but I don't understand."

The man smirked and rolled his eyes. "You're not very intelligent for a doctor. Yes my brother, Sherlock. He seems to have chosen you. He normally goes for the more intelligent type but I suppose he decided to be more adventurous this time. "He sighed as if the whole situation was tiring him and offered a hand to John. "I'm Mycroft Holmes."

"John." John took back his hand and shook his head in disbelief. "You're Sherlock's brother? Wait! His _type_? Do you think Sherlock and I are dating or something? Because it certainly sounds like you do and you've got completely the wrong idea."

Mycroft laughed heartily now. "No, I didn't think you were courting I was merely implying that you were Sherlock's new and only friend. Although, it would seem that you have other ideas."

John felt a blush rising up his cheeks as he placed his notebook back into his pocket. "I didn't mean that. Why are you here anyway? Judging by the look of contempt you have regarded everything in here with it's not for the food. "

Mycroft clasped his hands in front of him. "You're quite right, John. I'm actually here to see you although I am quite partial to a plate of cannelloni from time to time."

John glanced over at Mr. Carra who was staring him and tapping his watch. "I can't stand here all night. What do you want?"

"I have a proposition for you. If you agree to inform me weekly about what Sherlock has-" Mycroft lips twitched with distaste at his own choice of phrase. "_been up to_. I will pay you a... stipend, that's an eloquent way of putting it, isn't it John?"

John shook his head; he couldn't believe that anyone would do that. As much as he didn't get along with his own sister John couldn't imagine Harry paying someone to monitor him "So, you're bribing me to spy on your own brother. "

Mycroft pretended to be shocked. "Spying? Oh no, it's not spying. I'm simply just curious about Sherlock's activities and also the bribe, as you so choose to call it would mean that you could leave your job here right away. Leave everyone that annoys you."

How did Mycroft know that the other waiters annoyed him? Then John remembered. Mycroft was Holmes of course he knew. "No, I'm not doing it for two reasons. One, however you describe it I would be spying on Sherlock. Two, if you can afford to pay me so I wouldn't have to work here why don't you give the money to Sherlock so he could get away from a job he hates with people he despises?"

With another drawn out sigh Mycroft nodded. "Very well you've made your choice, the wrong one in my opinion. It would appear that you don't fully understand my brother anyway. He refuses to take my money and therefore chooses to work here. Believe me when I say that I've tried to get him away from this place." Mycroft glanced over to the bar where Mr. Carra was glaring at John. "I think you had better take my order now."

John could now understand why Sherlock wanted to be independent from his brother. "What will it be then?" John didn't even try to hide the annoyance in his voice.

Mycroft tutted before looking back down at the menu. "I'll have a glass of the Spaletti Brunello Di Montacalcino and the cannelloni please."

John scribbled Mycroft's order down angrily before walking away without another word. He'd make sure Donato waited Mycroft's table for the rest of the evening.

Hello everyone. I realised I haven't spoken to you in quite a while. We are actually nearing the end of the story now and I think there are about two chapters and an epilogue left so we're nearly there. Also, a fun fact if you can call it that: Mr. Carra is named after the Italian pop star Raffaella Carra. If you don't know who she is then I recommended you go and listen to her song 'Tanti Auguri' it's very catchy. Thank you for all of your kind words and encouragements and I hope you have a nice week.


End file.
